


now i just stop myself around you

by magnetichearts



Category: Never Have I Ever (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Bickering, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Post-Canon, Talking, Teasing, That's really all it is, and it got way longer than it was supposed to be, i don't know how else to tag this tbh, it's pretty emotional i guess, there's not much else for me to say except, they talk and argue a lot, um, zero word count control™️
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:06:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24653560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetichearts/pseuds/magnetichearts
Summary: It makes Devi think of inertia. She and Ben have been hurtling through the vacuum of time together, intended for one pre-established destination, and all it took was a little bit of velocity (malibu, she realizes) to alter their entire trajectory, to send them careening onto another path entirely.A path she doesn’t know how to walk.or; ben and devi, in the wake of malibu, try to figure out what they are to each other(title from “settle down” by the 1975)
Relationships: Ben Gross/Devi Vishwakumar
Comments: 4
Kudos: 144





	now i just stop myself around you

**Author's Note:**

> hiiiiiiiiiiiiii. um, yeah. so. yeah. that's it. this was supposed to be the +1 for a 5+1 fic, but then as i wrote it it completely grew out of my control (as always) and diverged heavily from the tone the initial 5+1 fic was supposed to take, so i decided to just release it as a one-shot all on its own. i'll still be writing the 5+1 fic, of course, but the +1 will be reworked a little as this was my initial idea for it. 
> 
> it was also a minor excuse to write more ben and devi banter, so i hope you guys like, because i _love_ writing ben and devi banter. like, could seriously do it forever without a little bit of a complaint. it's 3x as long as it was supposed to be but, on brand for me so. this is very, very emotionally heavy, so please respect that
> 
> both ben and devi say some pretty horrible things to each other in this fic, because i really wanted to try and get into their headspace post-malibu, so i ask that you just be respectful of that! i don't want any comments saying one of them is worse than the other, because a) they're fucking teenagers, and b) they're both in the wrong and the right, with some pretty intense emotional baggage
> 
> this fic is set post-canon, after ben and devi's kiss at malibu. i tried really fucking hard to get into devi's headspace after spreading her dad's ashes, and so that's the reason the writing may be a little more uncertain or unsatisfying than usual, because i think that's what she would have been like
> 
> also they bicker about politics. don't come for me, i just needed them to bicker about something and politics is what it is. but not even like, really politics, just the electoral college. whatever
> 
> enjoy k thx byeeeeeee!

Devi shows up at Ben’s house three days after Malibu, anxiety through the fucking roof. 

She’s sure her lip is raw from where she’s chewed at it for the past three days, worrying about how she’ll respond when she sees him. 

Because they haven’t talked about Malibu, they haven’t talked about the kiss and how he basically risked his permit, his life (her life as well, god, he’s a panicky driver) to get her to spread her father’s ashes. 

Not that Devi wants to talk about it, of course. If she or Ben never brought it up for the rest of their lives, she’d be ok with that. That actually sounds like the best course of action. 

She rings the doorbell and twists her hands, bouncing up and down on the heels of her feet as she waits for it to open. 

When it does, she holds her breath, and then releases it the second she sees Patty’s smiling face appear in the doorway. “Hello, sweet girl!” Patty says. 

Devi smiles back at her. She understands why Ben has a soft spot for Patty, she’s nothing but sweet and warm and  _ good, _ and Devi learnt that in the week she stayed with him. 

“Hi, Patty. I’m here to pick up my things I left in the guest bedroom?” 

“Of course, sweet girl. Come in! I will make you snacks!” She opens her mouth to protest, that her mother is waiting for her in the car outside, but soon enough Patty is bustling away without having heard her, and she lets it go. 

She shoves down the part of her that is disappointed Ben didn’t open the door, brilliant blue eyes staring into hers, and steps into the house.

(why is she disappointed he didn’t open the door?)

Devi heads to the guest bedroom, getting lost on the way there a bit—fuck, this house was stupidly huge—until she locates it, rock and roll posters splashed all over the walls. She’s never been a fan of The Doobie Brothers, but now she feels like she  _ has _ to listen to some of their music, if only because she basically lived with them for a week. 

It’s easy to pack up her things—when she ran away from home, she didn’t exactly take her whole room with her—but it still takes a little while, because she doesn’t want to toss things in haphazardly, cause then she’ll have a mess of things to iron out when she gets home. 

Maybe Ben wasn’t here. Maybe he was out doing—god knows what, whatever teenage country club members did—and she doesn’t have to face him while picking her clothes up. 

Honestly, this is the  _ ideal _ scenario. She doesn’t have to face Ben anymore, her friends are no longer mad at her, and she and her mom are on their way to mending their relationship. Nalini is trying, and Devi thinks perhaps it’s time for her to try too. She’s not the easiest person to get along with either. 

And the whole deal with Paxton...Devi thinks she’ll always feel something for him, but not in the way she’d felt about him before. She’d idolized him like a statue, a painting, an object instead of a person, and then she’d become something akin to friends with him, and then he’d kissed her. 

And it was a good kiss, objectively speaking, but, it didn’t make her  _ feel _ in the same way she had felt when she kissed Ben. Residual feelings, she chalks it up to. Paxton was her first crush, and so, she’ll always have a soft spot for him, some feelings of nostalgia and fondness, but he wasn’t what she wanted, anymore. It hadn’t been that hard to explain that to him when she got his voicemail after kissing Ben, and he had taken it surprisingly in stride when she talked to him about it. 

So, yeah. Her life is pretty ok! Barring the fact that Ben isn’t here—no,  _ including _ the fact that Ben isn’t here and she doesn’t have to talk to him—she’s good! Really, she is. 

Devi tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as she moves around the bed and picks up some of her scattered socks, neatly rolling them up and tucking them into her suitcase. She’s so absorbed in her work she doesn’t notice when Ben appears in the doorway, forcing him to cough to get her attention. 

She jumps nearly ten feet in the air in shock, and whirls around to see Ben, who’s leaning against the threshold, arms crossed, smirking. “Not funny, Gross!” she says, picking up one of the pillows and lobbing it at him so it clocks him in the head. 

“Glad to see your automatic defense is violence, David,” he says dryly, rubbing at his head. 

She rolls her eyes, ignoring how her heart rate speeds up at the mere sight of him. “When I see you, I just lose all control of my temper,” she sneers. 

Devi turns back to her packing, consciously ignoring the way his eyes seem to bore into her back, making her feel not unlike how she thinks specimens under a microscope feel when they are being analyzed. 

“Stop staring at my legs, Gross,” she quips, not even looking back at him. 

She hears him choke on air behind her, and smirks, although he can’t see her. “I—I wasn’t looking at your legs.” 

“Hmm,” she says, closing the suitcase and zipping it up. She turns around and grins at him, clearly aware of her power in the situation. 

(or maybe she’s just fronting, putting on a confident shield because no one makes her lose control like ben does, in both the worst and best ways. he makes her  _ more, _ maybe bringing out some of the worst parts of her personality, but also bringing out the best parts, and her insecurity is raging right now, so she tilts her head high and pretends like nothing matters)

“You keep telling yourself that. I won’t tell your mom about your collection of  _ Maxim _ magazines, I promise,” she says, winking at her. She pats him on the arm as she passes him by. 

“What—what the hell? I don’t need a  _ Maxim _ magazine subscription, David,” Ben says. “I get the models themselves.” 

She rolls her eyes as she walks down the hall. “In your dreams, maybe.” 

“You forgot your suitcase, David. I mean, I knew you didn’t have  _ that _ many brain cells, but come on, this is just embarrassing for you.” 

“God, were you raised in a barn, Gross? You should always bring a lady her suitcase if necessary. Come on. I know polo at the country club doesn’t give you many muscles, but seriously, you should be able to lift a 20 pound suitcase.” 

“I wouldn’t exactly call you a lady,” he mutters behind her. 

She turns around and plants her hands at her hips, temper rising. “What did you say?” 

“I said, “I wouldn’t exactly call you a lady,” David. And with that temper, you’d never make it in the 18th century.” 

She gapes at him, impossibly insulted, although why, she doesn’t exactly know. “For your information, I would be a  _ great _ lady, thank you very much.” 

He snorts, easily lifting her suitcase. She bites the inside of her cheek as her eyes trace over his arms, which are pretty fucking nice, although she’ll never admit that to him. 

Devi steps back, mildly horrified at herself. Why is she lusting over  _ Ben Gross, _ of all people? So what if he had given her the best kiss of her life. Devi’s a scientist, and the sample size of kisses she’s had has been rather low, so it only stands to reason that Ben’s kiss would be really good. 

(although if you had asked her two months ago who would have given the better kiss, she would have hands down said paxton, so like, she’s a little confused) 

But still. It doesn’t matter how much she wants to run her arms down the length of his arm and trace the muscle in his forearm, it doesn’t matter how soft his lips look and how nice his smile is, it doesn’t matter. 

She runs her tongue over her lip, but thankfully, he doesn’t notice, setting her suitcase on the ground and pulling the handle up. He sweeps his hand over the bed, perfectly made, of course, as if to wipe away imaginary dirt on the bed her suitcase left. “Looks like polo at the country club actually paid off for once.” 

He rolls his eyes. “What is it with you and your obsession with my country club membership?” 

“Who the  _ fuck _ has a country club membership anymore? It’s the 21st fucking century! Get over yourselves and slum it at the park with the rest of us normal human beings, god.” 

Ben sniffs the air haughtily, rolling her suitcase towards her. Her hands brush his as she reaches for it, and she does  _ not _ look him in the eyes to see if he feels the same spark that tingles up her arm. “I got a perfect PSAT score, David. I have to inspire the masses. I can’t be expected to hang out with them.” 

“We got the same score, dickwad.” 

“I still maintain that the testers had a mild form of dementia,” he says, but he’s smiling at her. 

“Well, only if you want to say that Shapiro had some dementia when he paired us up for that song parody project.” 

“He definitely did.” 

Devi laughs, tilting her head to the side as she recounts the memory. “Ok, Thomas Jefferson’s life set to the tune of “My Heart Will Go On” is pretty fucking ridiculous, I’ll give you that.” 

“Please let me know when we’re going to start learning something that’s actually on the AP test?” 

Devi groans, letting go of her suitcase to run a hand through her hair. “Don’t remind me.” 

“Ben!” Patty says, appearing in the hallway. “I made snacks for you and your friend.” 

“Oh, um, I don’t know if she can stay, Patty.” Ben glances at her. “Isn’t your mom waiting outside for you?” 

Devi shrugs. “Probably.” Her phone then dings with a text message from her mom, and she pulls it out to find her mom’s gone to run some last minute errands at the mall nearby. Devi rolls her eyes and tucks her phone back into her purse. Classic Mom. 

“Not anymore, apparently. So I’m stuck here until she comes back.” 

“Oh.” He glances away from her then, and she tries not to feel hurt by it. This is what she wants, right? No emotion on either of their parts. No talking about Malibu or the kiss. 

They’ll go back to school, and they’ll go back to being Ben and Devi, rivals who argue and bicker and push each other to be better, who don’t talk to each other without a good reason to, who don’t interact unless absolutely necessary and they need to split another club up. He can go back to his stupid acapella and Model UN and Young Republicans, and she can go back to her orchestra and Chinese club and Young Democrats, and whatever has happened between them in the past month can die and wither. 

(it doesn’t matter if she doesn’t want it to, if she wants to continue being friends with him, if she  _ likes _ being friends with him. because when she’s friends with ben, nothing changes, not all that much. she still rips him to shreds and he still pushes her, she still scoffs at his stupid reasons for being a republican (she’s wearing him down, she thinks, he’s dumb but not  _ dumb, _ and he’s jewish, for god’s sakes, he can’t support the president) and he still makes fun of her terrible accent while speaking mandarin. being friends with ben wasn’t that different than  _ not _ being friends with him, except instead of tearing her own hair out when they argue she wants to laugh, and maybe also kiss him to shut him up instead of stomping away. but none of that matters, because it can never be) 

It’s for the best, she decides. But she’s not quite ready to let go of him, of  _ them, _ just yet, and so she smiles. “Come on, Gross. I promise I’ll only steal like, half of your food.” 

He rolls his eyes as she drags him into the kitchen. “Yeah, that  _ really _ makes me want to eat with you right now.” 

She takes a seat at the table and Ben hops up on the stool next to her. She ignores the way his knee brushes against hers as she grabs one of the snacks Patty’s laid out and pops it into her mouth, fiddling with her hair. 

“So,” Ben says. “You still gloating over Monday?” 

Devi furrows her brow in confusion before she remembers what Monday was. They had a debate in history (finally, something fucking normal) on whether or not the electrocal college should be disbanded. Shapiro had come to his senses for the first time in his life, because he put Ben and Devi on opposing teams, and she had been looking for the chance to cut him down to size (again). Which she did. Her side won, of course. 

“You know I am, Gross.” 

“You know, you’re still wrong, no matter how much Shapiro seems to think you’re right.” 

“Please,” she scoffs. “I just had a better argument than you, because, you know, I’m right.” 

Ben rolls his eyes. “The electoral college has been around since the foundation of this country and is an integral part in our elections. To abolish it would be to give a few states complete sway over the election and to turn rural America into a ghost graveyard.” 

Devi snorts. “Are you high? That’s absolutely ridiculous. Rural America shouldn’t be thought of on the basis of states, but rather on the basis of counties. When you think of it that way, roughly 60 million Americans live in rural counties in states we don’t “classify” as rural in our ideology: California, New York, Texas, South Carolina.” 

“But the basis of the electoral college is so that the candidates don’t solely focus their votes on the larger states, with an established population, and visit the swing states where the votes matter more. It’s not fair if we let the states of Florida, California, New York, and Texas dictate our election because it’s based off of the popular vote.” He drums his fingers on the table as he leans back, smirking at her, and she notices his napkin is placed on his lap because—of course it fucking is.

“Oh my god, Ben,” she groans, rolling her eyes. “That literally wouldn’t even happen, you know that, right? First of all, we put such an emphasis on the electoral college that candidates don’t even  _ visit _ the more populous states where their vote is guaranteed. I’m not saying they shouldn’t visit the swing states, but not visiting California, New York, and Texas because your votes are seemingly “established” is a huge mistake on the part of the candidates. What people  _ think _ is going to happen to smaller states is already happening to the larger ones. It doesn’t seem to matter that millions of people in Texas vote Democrat, or that millions of people in Jersey vote Republican, because those states are seen as locks. They’re not spreading their message to the people who need to hear it.” 

“But,” Ben argues, “the electoral college creates incentive for candidates to think about regional blocs controlled by the opposition, rather than just maximizing turnout in their own regions. The electoral college is a way for small states to still be counted in the election and prevent large-state dominance.” 

“Don’t be an idiot, Ben,” she sighs, pressing her fingers to her nose. “Mathematically, that’s not possible. In 2016, New York, California, Texas, and Florida cast 35 million ballots, a quarter of the total cast of 137 million. Even  _ if _ a candidate won  _ every single one _ of those ballots—which is impossible—they’d still have to campaign in other states for tens of millions of more votes. You can’t even run up the score in the 10 largest cities in the country, because that’s still not enough votes. Compare that to the electoral college, where you only need to win the 11 largest states to get the presidency, and that’s the real case of large state dominance. Face it.” 

Ben leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, blue eyes narrowed at her. “You just want me to admit you’re right.” 

“I know that you think I’m right.” 

Ben shakes his head, but the small smile on the edge of his lips proves to her that she’s right. Ben’s too smart not to see it her way. “You really just want to hear it, don’t you?” 

Devi smirks, taking a sip of water. “I’ve known I was smarter than you since like, third grade, Gross. I don’t need you to admit it. Although, now that I think about it, you admitting I am right would be rather nice.” 

Ben frowns. “In your dreams, David.” 

Devi bats her lashes at him and sticks her lower lip out, pouting exaggeratedly. “Aw, please, Ben.” 

“You realize your begging for me to admit your intelligence really isn’t as insulting as you think it is. I didn’t think you cared about my opinion that much.” 

“I don’t. But I mean, hearing “you’re right” never gets old. I wouldn’t expect you to have much experience with that, though.” 

“Hey!” he protests. “I’ll have you know we’ve tied in almost everything for the past ten years.” 

Devi stops suddenly at that. “Jesus,” she whistles. “We’ve known each other for ten years?” 

Ben raises his eyebrows. “Feels like forever ago when I was beating you in the spelling bee, huh?” 

“No,” she shakes her head. “It doesn’t really feel like that long ago at all.” 

Ben’s eyes lock with hers, and she can feel her heartbeat start to pick up. Ten years? She’s known Ben Gross for ten years, and all of a sudden, he makes her feel like this, like she is standing on the edge of a cliff and looking down, mind dizzy from the sheer height. She can’t tear her eyes away from him, and somehow, it feels like nothing has really changed, and yet, everything has changed. 

It makes Devi think of inertia. She and Ben have been hurtling through the vacuum of time together, intended for one pre-established destination, and all it took was a little bit of velocity (malibu, she realizes) to alter their entire trajectory, to send them careening onto another path entirely. 

A path she doesn’t know how to walk. 

She clears her throat and glances down at her plate, brushing the crumbs off of her hands onto it. “Well, um, thanks,” she says. “You know, for the snacks and—everything.” 

The unspoken thanks hangs in the air, and she doesn’t think she’ll ever pluck up the courage to say those words.  _ Thank you for taking me in. Thank you for getting me to Malibu. Thank you for being there when I had no one else. Thank you for preventing me from making a mistake I would have regretted. Thank you for bringing Fab and El when you knew I needed someone, when you knew that I wouldn’t listen to anyone else. Thank you for staying. _

A million thank yous, and it still wouldn’t be enough for her.

His eyes soften, and he’s looking at her in the exact same way that he looked at her after she kissed him, just before he kissed her, and it’s too much, it’s too fucking much for her to handle. “Any time, Devi.” 

But—no. Not anytime. She can’t do this anymore. They’ve crossed the Rubicon, and she was foolish to think that she could look at him and feel nothing. 

(because a gaping hole opens up inside of her when she looks at him. ben’s no longer her enemy, and something  _ more _ than her friend, and her mind spins from how quickly this has happened. she’d expected their relationship to develop like ecological succession, over millennia, small buds of growth here and there, but it’s more like a forest fire, destroying everything in its wake in a matter of moments for the potential of something new)

Or perhaps it is both and neither, secondary succession over ten years wiped out with the forest fire of their kiss, wiping out everything she’d thought they were to each other while giving her the chance to build something new. It is only apt that Malibu would be the disturbance, the forest fire or hurricane that changed everything, because when Ben had kissed her he’d lit something in her she didn’t know would catch fire, and right now she wants nothing more than to drag him closer by the collar of his stupid polo shirt and kiss him. 

She hops down from her stool and smooths her hands over her shirt, nervously flattening out imaginary wrinkles. “Thanks,” she stammers again.    


“Yeah.” He hops down from the stool as well, and she knows Ben well enough to know right now he looks  _ nervous, _ which doesn’t make any fucking sense. Why would he be nervous? 

“And um—we don’t—we don’t have to talk about this any further at school. Like, we can just—forget everything that happened.” She’s rambling, she’s sure of it, but this is what she has to do. This is what she  _ needs _ to do, to protect her heart, to stop herself from pulling him to her. 

She gives him a shaky smile. “Back to enemies, back to normal.” 

“Is—is that what you want? Back to normal?” He’s staring at her, and something deeper swirls in his eyes, something that Devi’s too terrified to name. 

“Well, that’s what’s best for the both of us, right?” 

He barks out a laugh, turning away from her and running a hand through his hair. “No. No of course. Of course that’s what you’d want to do. What’s best for you.” 

She feels her temper flare up, and she steps forward, wrapping her hand around his arm and pulling him back so he faces her. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing, David,” he spits, the nickname filled with a venom she’s never heard, ever. Even when it had annoyed her, it had been mocking, smug, but never, never like this, his voice full of hurt. “I should have just expected you to run away. That’s what you always do, right?” 

“I don’t run away, asshole,” she snaps, stepping closer to him and looking him right in the eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“I should have expected this from you, Devi. I’m sure you just want to go running back to  _ Paxton, _ don’t you. To forget about everything,” he sneers, but she catches the look of real hurt that flashes over his face. 

Too bad for him, he’s poked a bear that’s about to maul him. 

“And how is that any of your fucking business?” 

“It’s not!” he admits, glaring at her. “I just—I just thought—after Malibu—but clearly, I was wrong. Forget it.” 

“No.” She stops her foot, well aware she’s acting like a child, but god, he  _ irritates _ her. “You don’t get to say that I’m the one who runs away and then avoid this conversation. Say what you fucking mean, Ben.” 

“Fine! Why haven’t we talked about what happened after Malibu, Devi?” 

She stops cold, every molecule of air sucked away from the room. He’s staring at her, cheeks flushed red, bringing out the blue of his eyes even more, and she doesn’t know what to say. 

How can she tell him he’s the only thing she’s thought about for the past three days? That his smile had haunted—no, that’s not  _ quite _ the right word—had lingered in her memory, refusing to vanish no matter what she tried? That when she laid in her bed at night, she could still feel the beat of his heart, under her hand? That sometimes, if she pressed her lips together hard enough, she could still feel how soft his were against hers, how he had kissed her like she was something unique, a singularity. How can she tell him that his eyes are the last thing she sees when she falls asleep, and that there is something about them that brings her a peace she thought she had lost with her father’s death?

He’s turned her inside and out, and she can’t tell him any of this. 

“I—I,” she begins, but it’s clearly not enough for him, and he pulls his arm from her hand, shaking his head. 

“I get it, Devi. It was a mistake. It was a stupid mistake you made in the heat of the moment. You were emotional after spreading your father’s ashes. You didn’t mean to do it. To—” he swallows roughly, as if he’s unable to get the words out. “To kiss me.” 

“Ben—no, wait—” she begins, but he doesn’t let her finish, rubbing at hand at the back of his neck and looking more exhausted than she’s ever seen him. 

“Just go, Devi. Please.” He runs a hand over his face, looking haggard, and guilt pools in her stomach at the thought that she made him look like this. 

“No, you’re taking this wrong, Ben.” She steps forward, and she aches with want, to touch him and hold him and run her hands through what she’d discovered to be impossibly soft hair. 

“How else am I supposed to take this, Devi?” he says tiredly. “You want to go back to normal, and I don’t think I can do that. I don’t think I can pretend anymore. Maybe it’s better if we just stop talking to each other entirely.” 

“But I don’t want that!” she shouts. Ben freezes in place, looking at her as though she’s some wounded animal, one that’ll run away at the drop of a hat. 

(and, maybe she is, she’s definitely  _ something, _ definitely messed up enough to not deserve him, still lost in the swirling mess of her emotions, but—he grounds her. he brings her back to herself, brings her back to the earth. it makes no sense, but she supposes ben is like her weather balloon, ready to take her up into the clouds or back down to earth. it’s a staggering irony of opposites, but that is what they have always been. opposites, yet balanced, like yin and yang) 

“I don’t want that,” she insists, taking a step closer to him. Now  _ he’s  _ the one who looks like the wounded animal, terrified of her, and this, this is what heartbreak feels like, isn’t it? 

Because she wants nothing more than to trace her fingers down his face and look into eyes that rival the Adriatic Sea in color, to run her thumb along the crest of his cheek and into his hair, that’s ridiculously soft because of some stupidly expensive soap that’s apparently used by Johnny Depp (she remembers him mentioning), she wants nothing more than to kiss him again, to have his hands run along the back of her spine and to feel his heart thump in his chest—and he wants nothing to do with her. 

It makes sense, of course. If she were him, she wouldn’t want anything to do with her either. 

Devi feels her heart shatter in her chest. She’d learnt in school that the left lung only has two lobes as opposed to the right, which has three, to make room for the heart, and oh, isn’t that simply poetic? Because her heart is not a muscle, it is a piece of glass, and she can feel it splintering in her chest and the shards piercing her lung. She can’t breathe. 

“Then what do you want, Devi?” 

And she has no answer to that. None at all.

“Ben.” 

She has no words. What can she say? 

He’s looking at her like she’s already gone, like she’s nothing, and it hurts god, it hurts. 

So Devi does the only thing she knows what to do when she hurts: she lashes out. 

“You’re being absolutely fucking ridiculous, right now,” she snaps. 

The look on his face turns from exhausted to furious, that old habit coming back to life. Because she knows everything about Ben, how to push his buttons and make him fight with her, tangle with her in a display of fury and anger. It has always been the way they work, opposition, two forces butting heads. There has never been anything one-sided about them, ever, because Devi has given as good as she’s got. 

_ “I’m _ the one being ridiculous? You stopped talking to me! For three days!” 

“Because I was  _ confused, _ oh my god! What part of that don’t you understand?” Her eyes harden, and she clenches her fists at her sides. “Or can you not understand anyone that has more than a few brain cells? Why don’t you go running back to Shira, then?” 

He clenches his jaw, a stony look on his face as he looks away from her. “That’s not fair, Devi, and you know it.” 

“Well, you’re not being fair right now either, Gross,” she spits. “I needed time.” 

He scoffs. “Time to what? Choose Paxton? Forget about Malibu? Leave everyone else in your life behind?” 

“At least I  _ have _ people to leave behind, not just a gold-digging girlfriend and parents who don’t care about me, or pay attention to anything I do!” 

As soon as the words leave her mouth, she feels impossibly guilty. He’d—opened up to her, trusted her, and she’d thrown that trust back in his face. At least he’d never done that to her. She watches the hurt flash over his face, deep and cutting, before his face smooths out into that mask of smugness and imperceptibility she hates so much. 

She’s been on the receiving end of it before, but never like this. 

“Ok, Devi,” he says quietly. “You know what? That’s fine. I just—I can’t do this anymore. I’m not going to fight with you.” He holds up his hands in surrender, and the sight sends chills through her. 

(because the one, the  _ one _ thing ben has never done has given up. not even after her father died (and she’s grateful for that, because she’d needed that normalcy more than every), not when she’d beat him three years in a row for the spelling bee—he’d thrashed her soundly for two years straight after—not ever. because ben doesn’t give up, and devi thinks she might have been taking advantage of this fact her whole life) 

“So—so you’re just giving up?” she chokes out. 

He pinches his brow. “I’m done, Devi. I’ll still compete against you in school—because there is no way you are beating me there—but I’m done with—whatever this is,” he says, gesturing in between them. “I’ll honor the extracurricular pact, and I’ll leave you alone. It’s what’s best.” 

He runs a hand through his hair and moves to the counter, tossing the plate into the sink as if its mere presence had offended him, messed up his pristine house. 

She opens her mouth to say something, but—nothing comes out. That is the thing about her and Ben. They argue, they fight, they bicker but—they don’t talk. Or at least, they didn’t used to. And now they’ve started and stopped so quickly it’s given her whiplash and Devi doesn’t know how to fix this. This broken, tangled mess that is them.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I shouldn’t have said that about—about your parents. Or Shira. I was wrong.” 

“I shouldn’t have said that about Paxton,” he offers. “I was wrong too.” 

He’s silent then, looking at her like she holds all the answers, and it scares her shitless, because she doesn’t hold all the answers. In fact, she holds none of them, and she hates that he thinks she does. 

“Just—just tell me one thing. Before you go,” he says, turning towards her. He looks as though he wants to take back whatever he just said, but presses his lips together and soldiers on. 

“Why did you do it?” 

She casts her eyes to the floor. She knows what he’s asking, and yet, she’s never felt more like a coward than here, than now. “Malibu?” 

She can’t see him, but she can hear as he steps closer to her. “Kiss me. Why did you kiss me?” 

The worst part is she can’t—she can’t give him the answer she wants, because  _ she’s not sure herself. _ She doesn’t know why she kissed him, only that—in true Devi Vishwakumar style—she’d thrown all caution to the wind and acted solely on impulse, on emotion. 

And yet, maybe there’s some merit to the fact that she’d just spread her father’s ashes and she was understandably incredibly emotional, maybe there’s some merit to the fact that he’d been right  _ there _ and she needed to express how she felt—but none of that explains why she feels the same pounding of her heart looking at him right now as she did in his Porsche. 

“I don’t know.” 

She can’t even look at him as she says this, but she knows Ben, knows him like the back of her hand after ten years of butting heads with him, competing against him, and so she knows his face crumbles and he nods quietly. 

“I understand, Devi.” 

She looks at him then, in shock. “What?” 

He looks at her, those shockingly blue eyes holding more understanding in them than she thought possible. 

“I get it. You need time. And I’ll give it to you. I just—can you do the same for me?” 

Devi keeps waiting, waiting for this epiphany, for this moment of clarity to come, but, she realizes now, maybe she doesn’t get an epiphany. Maybe all she gets is this, this uncertainty coupled with surety. Maybe all she gets to do is reach a hand out and hope Ben takes it. Maybe that’s all she can do. Hope. 

She swallows. “I don’t need time. I mean, I do but—not about you.” 

He steps closer to her, eyes boring into her like lasers and for once, the intensity does not make her flinch or step away. She tilts her head up and looks back at him. “What do you mean, not about me?” 

“I don’t really know what I feel, Ben,” she admits, and it’s like this huge weight has been taken off her chest. “I don’t know what we are to each other.” 

(they’re friends, but—not quite, and devi doesn’t know how to handle this. they have been forged in a crucible, thrown together because of grief and abandonment and loneliness, and even though they have been simmering reactants in a chemical reaction for as long as she can remember, it was only a matter of time before they hit their catalyst: malibu. and—it’s too much, because they’d gone from enemies to friends to—a thing that doesn’t even have a label in a matter of weeks—and devi knows the crucible had been lit on fire when he’d kissed her)

“Me neither,” he admits, and surprisingly, she laughs. 

“You’re telling me Ben Gross just admitted to not knowing something? I thought hell would freeze over before that happened,” she teases, and the small smile that appears on his lips is a balm. 

“So,” he says, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. He’s still far away from her, but the distance feels like nothing now, feels like they’ve built a bridge between them. “Where do we go from here?” 

“I guess we—we try something?” 

He raises an eyebrow. “Do you want to? Are—are you ready for that?” 

She bites her lip, fiddling with her phone in her hands. “I—I think so. I mean, I wasn’t before, you know. I still hadn’t come to terms with what happened to my dad but I’m doing a lot better, now. I just need you to understand that I’m still working through this.” 

Ben’s gaze softens, and he smiles sadly at her. “You don’t ever have to be ok with it, Devi. I don’t expect you to.” 

This startles her, because—she’s always thought she  _ has _ to be ok with her father’s death, and if she’s not, then there’s something wrong with her. But—she’s the only one who has been thinking like that, she realizes. She has to accept it, to understand and process that grief, but she doesn’t ever have to feel  _ ok _ about it. And it’s taken Ben for her to see that. 

“Thank you, Ben.” 

He looks like he wants to move over to her, but—he always lets her come to him. He never pushes her, and so she knows she has to make the first move. 

Ben rubs the back of his neck and smiles at her. “Um, I guess we take it slow?” 

Devi smiles at him, walks over and finally,  _ finally _ touches his cheek, like she’s been wanting to for ages. “If you can’t keep up with me, Gross, that’s fine. We can take it slow for you.” 

“I meant for you, David,” he says affectionately. 

“I just—I want to give this a try, Ben. I don’t know, you think you can do that?” 

“I can do anything I set my mind to, Devi,” he smirks. 

“Except impress me, of course.” 

He rolls his eyes before he ducks his head and—oh, he’s kissing her. 

He kisses her like she’d kissed him in Malibu, hesitantly, as if he can’t quite believe she’s hear, real and beating, under his hands. They touch in exactly two places: their lips, and her hand on his cheek. It’s chaste—there’s no other word for it, and she finds herself melting into him, into the two points of contact where they converge. 

He breaks away from her and touches her forehead to his, keeping the two points of contact steady. 

“Are you sure, Devi?” he asks, voice so quiet he can barely hear it. “Not ten minutes ago we were screaming at each other.” 

She purses her lips, and then trails her hand up his cheek, running it through his hair before back down to his lips. “No. I’m not sure at all. But I think we can figure it out together, right?” She smirks cheekily at him, enjoying the way his gaze drops to her lips as she speaks. 

“I mean—I might consider slowing down for you. Just a little,” he says. 

“Don’t you dare.” 

“Can you give me a reason I shouldn’t?” he whispers, and his mouth is so close to hers her head spins, in a dizzingly good way. 

“Cause otherwise, it’ll be too easy for me to beat you, and there’s no fun in that, is there, Gross?” 

His eyes sparkle as he grins at her, smile pressing against her lips. “I’ll show you fun.” 

And he does. 

**Author's Note:**

> ben is def the republican who sucks at being an actual republican btw, and devi totally turns him liberal after like,,,,2 serious convos with him. your comments and kudos make me happier than ben seeing patty! come talk to me about the show! you can find me on tumblr: @[parkersedith](https://parkersedith.tumblr.com)


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